


Anterograde

by Joanne_Barcia



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s01e02 Deep Throat, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanne_Barcia/pseuds/Joanne_Barcia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You okay, Mulder?" she asks, and it takes you a few seconds to drag your attention from the trees and road rushing by for long enough to process what she's asking. And once you do, you're not quite sure what to say. / Missing scene from 1x02 (Deep Throat).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anterograde

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! So I just started watching The X-Files and it's probably my favorite thing right now. I'm about halfway through the first season, but this story idea has been stuck in my head since 1x02. Essentially, a missing scene in between Scully and Mulder leaving the base and arriving at the Budahas' house. First fic for this show, so reviews would be wonderful. :) Thanks!

* * *

**Anterograde ||** **directed forward in time. Or: involving inability to remember any new information.**

* * *

"You okay, Mulder?" she asks, and it takes you a few seconds to drag your attention from the trees and road rushing by for long enough to process what she's asking. And once you do, you're not quite sure what to say.

So you turn your head to look at her, and you say, "I think so." But even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice, the distinct lack of confidence in your answer. Because it suddenly strikes you that you have absolutely no _idea_ how you are. Or even how you came to be here.

The last time your eyes were open, you were behind the wheel of that rented car, driving away from the motel in the muted night, thinking that Scully was absolutely going to kill you when you got back. But you'd have all the evidence; you could solve the case. Find those UFOs, discover what this government is still so desperate to hide. So she needn't be _so_ mad.

That was your last thought. But then you must have blinked – and when you woke up, it was in the back of a military van, squinting at the late afternoon sun. And when you climbed out, all you got for explanation was Scully, standing across the way and pointing a gun at the reporter you saw the day before.

She told you to get in the car, so you did. You suppose you're safe now, in the passenger seat, with your partner driving, but that explains absolutely nothing. Hours and hours of your own goddamn memories are missing from your head, and never – not once – has this happened to you before. You wonder if it's any use in worrying about it, because you're safe and somewhat okay, but you can't _help_ it.

You think, for just a moment – maybe everyone was right about you. All along. What if you really are crazy? What if you've finally lost it, and there were never any such things as alien hovercrafts or abductions or –

Now Scully's looking at you strangely. Of course she is. You suddenly wonder if, perhaps, she's got any idea of what happened; she did come to your rescue, after all. She _must_ have the answer.

So you start, "Scully, I –"

And you pause. Because what if she doesn't know? What if she's got no idea at all, and the truth of the matter is just that you're losing your mind? She's still looking at you so oddly, and by the look on her face, your silence is starting to worry her.

"What?" she says, and you start to wish you hadn't opened your mouth. If you'd just said you were fine and left it at that, she wouldn't be looking at you like that. But you _did_ open your mouth, and as much as you just want to drop it now, you can't.

And you've got to know.

"How did I get here?"

You see in her eyes that she doesn't know. But now she's looking at you like – not like you're crazy. But like something is suddenly terribly wrong, and somehow you feel both relief and fear at the same time. If Scully doesn't think you're crazy by now, then you think you should be okay.

But then she pulls the car over as soon as she finds a sizeable patch of shoulder, and you start to wonder.

"Take your seatbelt off and lean this way," she says after a deep breath, and you obey without even thinking about it.

She starts carding her fingers through your hair, running her fingertips over the back of your head, the sides, your neck. It takes you a second, but you think you know what she's looking for; a bump somewhere. Some sign of swelling. Anything that could indicate a swing to your head, explain some form of anterograde amnesia.

But your head feels fine. Honest.

You say as much, but she seems unconvinced, in spite of the fact that her cursory search has detected nothing out of the ordinary. She brings the inside of her wrist to your forehead, and it takes a fair amount of self-restraint not to just pull away and dismiss her outright at this point.

Your head is _fine._

She asks you what you remember last, and you tell her. _Driving away._ She asks you why, and you tell her. _To find out what they're hiding in that base._ She asks you why _again,_ and you tell her. _Because whatever's in that base would explain what happened with –_

"I want to see Colonel Budahas," you say, and you suddenly think you might be onto something. You can practically feel the gears moving behind your forehead as you remember the previous day, remember the Colonel and his memory loss and your theories that Scully said were absolutely ridiculous.

She says that about all your theories, really. You're used to it by now. But the more you think of it as cars rush by outside the windows, the more it seems that you may be right.

(That's the case with most of your theories, too. You're secretly far too pleased about that, you're sure.)

You strap your seatbelt back on in an instant, but she starts trying to dissuade you right away. You've come to expect nothing less, honestly.

"Mulder, _no,"_ she nearly shouts, incredulous. "No, we have to –"

"I have to talk to the Colonel. The same thing happened to him, Scully, the very same thing. I'm telling you, something's…." You pause. And suddenly you _know._ "They must have taken something from me…."

She's shaking her head at you in near disbelief. "You think they wiped your memories. I understand how you could come to that conclusion, Mulder, but that _can't_ be true! It's not possible."

"Okay, fine," you say. "Just – either way, I need to talk to him. _Please."_

She stares at you carefully for a few long moments after that; and then as she starts the car up again, you think that something in your appearance must have convinced her. The dirt in your hair, the tired look in your eyes. Regardless of what it was, you're just glad that it worked.

As she pulls back onto the road, she offers only a sigh and something that must be half piece of advice and half gentle order.

"Just… it's a long ride back to town from here. Close your eyes for a bit. Maybe you'll remember something."

You think it's a long shot, really. Worse than that, you think it's just not going to happen. Still – you find yourself nodding to her and leaning against the window. You do just as she says and close your eyes, still hoping in the back of your mind that the honest-to-God truth will finally come out. That, or your memories.

Those would be pretty nice, too.


End file.
